Peter and the Sword of Mercy by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online

the while bantering with the Lost Boys, who were deeply impressed by the sailors’ skill. As the blazing sun rose high and the heat became intense, the men stopped to rest, sitting in the shade of the hut, entertaining the boys with stories of life at sea.
    After DeWulf had told a particularly exciting tale, Slightly said, “I’d like to go on a ship sometime.”
    Instantly, O’Neal sat up. “But you must have been on a ship,” he said to Slightly. “You came to this island on a ship, didn’t you?”
    “Yes,” said Slightly, “but that was…” He stopped, cut off by a nudge from Nibs.
    “That was what?” said O’Neal.
    “That was…that was a long time ago,” said Slightly.
    O’Neal frowned, as if confused. “Well, it couldn’t have been too long ago, now could it?” he said. “You’re all just young boys. How could it have been so very long ago?” He looked around at the boys. They avoided his eyes.
    “It’s a mystery, is it, then?” said O’Neal. “There seem to be a lot of mysteries on this island. Boys who say they got here long ago and yet are still young boys. Another boy who can fly. Mermaids in the lagoon. And nobody here seems to be sick. Why, we ourselves came ashore just a few days ago, all sunburned and ailing, and look at us now.” O’Neal gestured toward the other three sailors, their once red and sun-blistered skin now glowing with healthy tans.
    “Yes, it’s a mysterious island,” O’Neal continued. “It’s almost as if”—he looked around the circle of boys—“as if there was something magical here. Maybe it’s in the water.” He laughed as if he’d made a joke, although there was no laughter in his expression. “But that’s silly, isn’t it?” he said. “How could there be magic in the water?” He looked around at the boys, waiting.
    “Well,” said Tootles, “there’s…OW!”
    Peter, lightning fast, had swooped down from the tree and landed with a hard bump against Tootles, knocking him sideways. Peter ignored him, his eyes on O’Neal.
    “There’s nothing in the water,” he said. He looked around at the Lost Boys. “We’re going swimming now.”
    “But I want to hear some more sailing stories!” said Slightly. The other boys, comfortable in the shade, grumbled as well.
    “I said, we’re going swimming now,” said Peter, glaring at them.
    Reluctantly they rose and, still grumbling, started down the path toward the lagoon. Peter, herding them, was the last in line. As they disappeared into the jungle, he glanced back at the sailors. They had not moved. O’Neal was watching Peter. His face was impassive, but there was something in his dark, glittering eyes—something that amused him, and terrified Peter.
    Peter looked quickly away, knowing that O’Neal had seen his fear. He hurried forward, into the safe embrace of the jungle.

     
    Late that afternoon, Peter found his way to the Mollusk village and went straight to the hut of Fighting Prawn. He found the chief asleep in a hammock and gently shook him. A single eye popped open, giving Peter an inquisitive look.
    “Could I have a minute, sir?”
    Without a word, Fighting Prawn pulled himself out of the hammock. A moment later he and Peter were standing in the shade of a palm tree on the beach, a warm breeze on their faces.
    Peter told Fighting Prawn about Cheeky O’Neal’s conversation with the Lost Boys. When he got to O’Neal’s question about the island water, Fighting Prawn’s face grew somber. “This is bad,” he said. “I knew there was something about those men.”
    “He might be guessing,” said Peter. “How could he know about the water?”
    “I don’t know how much he knows,” said Fighting Prawn. “But if he finds out …” The chief sighed. “I was afraid this would happen some day. We’ve been blessed on this island, Peter. We were given a gift. Now it seems there’s a price to pay. If these men discover our secret, they will never leave us alone.” He looked